


Frostfall

by taichara



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Drabble Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:22:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three drabbles for Aquarius Camus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. light

**Author's Note:**

> \- light -

The shine of a frozen waterfall, the swift sharp stab  
in eyes and mind of the northern aurora,  
the sight-stealing brilliance of unending snowy drifts --  
all these are more whirled within his white-ice aura,  
caught and tangled as blinding as icy starlight in hair like brightest blood.

Bright as the blood that marked them both, dusted diamond turned to ruby.

No matter, all of that;  
in one single shining moment now the boy  
would prove him proud  
and drive him to the frozen marble in a wave of purest white --

_Show me that strength, Hyouga, and do not falter now --!_


	2. dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- darkness -

Heart-freezing, terrifying --  
for he felt _cold_ now, fear as sharp as winter wind  
to have been brought to heel so quickly, and so complete;  
struck down by Virgo's wrath, and rightly so. They were the damned.

All that he was now was  
the endless blackness of his abandoned grave  
as that memory came rushing in again,  
and the numbness taking his borrowed life.

Only purest will now kept him, Saint of ice, from breaking --  
and the touch, so faintly felt, against his own spirit  
that spoke of the Twin Saint's intent  
to guide him, sightless, gently through their final night.


	3. shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- shadow -

A grip ruthless and desperate clutched round his silent throat  
as scarlet blood soaked through scarlet hair;  
and though he could not feel the pain nor see his assailant's burning eyes  
the brush of spirit like scarlet heart's-flame spoke of the Saint of Scorpions.

Though he clawed weakly at the unseen golden gauntlet,  
already he hoped the gesture empty, doomed to fail;  
an end to this half-dead shambling farce  
and his soul-shadow torn free from milk-pale corpse  
to be cast to Tartaros in chains again.

Only fitting to be so condemned by Scorpio.

He stared, sightless, breathless -- 

_Finish it, Milo_


End file.
